


May We Hold Our Hands

by TourmalineQueen



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Needs a Hug (Good Omens), Aziraphale still needs to go slowly, Comment Fic, Community: comment_fic, Gen, Holding Hands, Informed Consent is Sexy, M/M, Touch-Starved, and goes on via affection, figuring out their new world, it starts with permission, they are both starved for touch and affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:53:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21617152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineQueen/pseuds/TourmalineQueen
Summary: Written for Comment-Fic, Hurt/Comfort day and Cozy-Coffee's prompt, "Touch Starved".
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 151
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic, Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2019





	May We Hold Our Hands

It was as they walked out of the Ritz, heading for Soho, on the first day of the rest of their lives when Crowley realised that Aziraphale, who had been so animated and elated during their meal had gone very quiet and less physically expressive, keeping his hands clasped behind his back, preventing him from gesticulating. Crowley realised Aziraphale tended to do this when he had Heaven, and more specifically what he Ought To Be, Say, Think and Do on his mind.

"Angel? Everything alright?" Crowley allowed his sunglasses to slip down his nose so he could meet the angel's gaze.

Aziraphale tensed a bit and gave a tight shrug. "Just..." he trailed off.

"Just what?" Crowley prompted.

"Just thinking, my dear."

"Thinking?" Crowley asked, jaw working, "thinking about what?"

"What can we do now? Now that the Head Offices don't hold sway over us?"

"How d'you mean "what can we do"? We can do as we please, angel. Doesn't matter if Hell or Heaven sees us, we're on our own side, now," Crowley reminded Aziraphale, keeping his voice gentle, suddenly conscious that Aziraphale was as skittish as he'd ever seen the angel. He also refrained from reminding him that Hell hadn't really held all that much sway over *him* for decades, now.

"That's not quite what I - What I intended - oh, I wasn't seeking permission from _that lot_ ," Aziraphale said, waving dismissively. He looked frustrated. "It's - what it is, is - oh, what _is it_?"

The angel had clearly lost his train of thought. He stopped in the middle of the footpath and turned to Crowley, wringing his fingers fretfully. Crowley resisted the urge to reach out and take hold of the angel's worried fingers. A human tutted as they blocked the thoroughfare and tried to push through them. Crowley made sure the human stubbed their toe on an uneven paving slab that had been flat a moment before. Aziraphale spotted it and gave Crowley a look of fond exasperation.

"Well, angel? What do you need permission for? And from who?"

" _Whom_ ," Aziraphale corrected him primly.

Crowley rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and made a gesture to get the angel to Get To The Point, sometime this century, please.

"I was wondering about the correct protocol for - oh, that's not right, either. Crowley, my dear boy, what I'm thinking is whether I ought-" Crowley gave a low hiss, thinking the word Ought ought to be stricken from the English language, along with Should "-I mean, ought we, no, I mean, may I hold your hand, Crowley?" Aziraphale looked away from Crowley, avoiding the demon's gaze as he finished speaking, turning to continue walking towards the bookshop. Crowley stood stock still, jaw slack as he parsed what Aziraphale had said, and what he had done - he had conspicuously avoided looking Crowley in the eye, well aware that his eyes tended to do this Thing when he asked Crowley for something he wanted but believed he Ought Not Want. Was Aziraphale giving Crowley permission to _deny_ him something he really, really wanted?

"Ngk," said Crowley. He hurried to catch up with the surprisingly quick angel. "Angel! Angel! Of _course_ you can hold my hand," he all but shouted.

"Of course I _can_ ," Aziraphale echoed. "But _may I_?"

"That's what I just-"

"That was neither the granting of permission nor consent, merely the acknowledgement that I am capable of so doing."

"Not very big on informed consent, Upstairs, are they?" Crowley asked gently.

Aziraphale sighed, and shook his head. "Nor on physical touch. And I saw how it was in Hell, I refuse to run roughshod over your boundaries the way the demon denizens of Downstairs do."

They arrived at the bookshop. 

"That was some excellent alliteration, angel. You may hold my hand any time you like, always," Crowley answered, holding his hand out, palm up to the angel. 

Aziraphale looked at Crowley's outstretched hand and lifted his own, hesitating twice before threading his fingers through Crowley's and taking a very deep breath and letting it out slowly. He smiled softly, and all but glowed. Crowley's breath caught in his chest. Feeling Aziraphale's warmth wrapping around his hand felt like Aziraphale looked.

"Angel," Crowley breathed. 

"Dear boy," Aziraphale answered, his smile growing from shy to beatific and joyful.

"Get a room," some human passerby yelled out, and both beings startled, realising they hadn't moved from the bookshop's door.

"An excellent suggestion," Aziraphale smirked at Crowley.

They made their way, hands still entwined, to the couch in the bookshop's back room. The couch seemed happier than usual to see Crowley, and was surprised when both Crowley and Aziraphale sat down together, hands still connected.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale asked softly.

"Yes, angel?"

"Do you think, would it be possible... No. No more babbling. I know I told you, you go to fast for me. Would it be acceptable to give me time to catch up? It's so long since I've touched anyone, and this," he held up their clasped hands, "feels ever so lovely, but it also feels a bit much. Could we go slowly, together, do you think?"

Crowley nodded enthusiastically. "Course, angel. We _may_ both go slowly together."


End file.
